


Everything has an end

by Lenami



Category: Once Upon A Time In Hollywood (2019)
Genre: A bit sad in a weird way, Angst, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, Character Study, Cliff may be a bit out of character, Cliff's mom, Cliff's past, Cliff's wife death, F/M, Flashbacks, Hospital, Hurt, M/M, Melancholy, Post-Ending (Once Upon A Time In Hollywood), Rick is worried, Sentimental, Sexual Harrasment, but hey, but who knows, in past, kind of, not author for sure, not much, they have bagels at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:00:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22132945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenami/pseuds/Lenami
Summary: His mother was a smart woman, he realized after all of those years, smarter than anybody given her credit for. Smarter than him, he knew it for sure. Still, no kind of intelligence cures assholes. Her opinion about him wasn't as much irritating as uncomfortable, like wearing shoes that are just a little too small. Hurts in a way you can’t exactly place. It’s not steady.It's just a bit of character study, a bit of what I imagine to be Cliff's past and a tiny little bit of hospital.
Relationships: Cliff Booth & Rick Dalton, Cliff Booth & his wife, Cliff Booth/Rick Dalton
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	Everything has an end

**Author's Note:**

> I am not exactly sure what made me write this fic and to be honest I find it very nostalgic in a weird way. When I watched movie I got an impression that Rick doesn't appreciate Cliff enough and- that their friendship is not going to last forever. Maybe that is why I got so emotional and nostalgic about characters from fairly light movie.  
> It's not my first fanfiction but I am still quite new to this, so please be kind. (And I am very sorry about grammar- I try my best but English is not my first language)  
> Anyway, enjoy!

Cliff was always convinced that there are things he couldn’t comprehend completely. He was never smart enough. Not that it bothered him too much, but still, sometimes when the door behind him were shut and he stood alone under Rick’s window, just about to get in the car, he couldn’t help but wonder, feeling something unpleasant crawl under his skin.

In all of those moments when you drive the car just after midnight or step out of the house in the chilly morning, it’s just natural to think. That was his opinion, at least.

He tried to avoid overthinking; it was Rick’s main activity and look where it got him though he didn’t think of himself to be much better.

There were some things that came back to him, repeatedly. Sometimes, he would stop while working, being hit by a thought; ‘What am I doing right now? How did I get here?’ In the moments of weariness his mother’s last words would come to him. Not her last-last words, but hers last words meant for him.

‘Cliff, there may be so many things wrong with you, and I wonder who will take care of it if I am unable to? Who will take care of you? If I can’t do it anymore, so who will take care of my son?’

She was a smart woman, he realized, after all of those years, smarter than anybody given her credit for. Smarter than him, he knew it for sure. Still, no kind of intelligence cures assholes.

Those words weren’t as much irritating as uncomfortable, like wearing shoes that are just a little too small. Hurts in a way you can’t exactly place. It’s not steady.

Maybe he should care more, or maybe it should hurt more. Most of people would be upset to hear that there was something wrong with them, but what haunted Cliff more was the question; ‘Who will take care of it?’

That’s the question; who will take care of his wrongness? Who will take care of him?

That was so upsetting to hear, to know. This thought made him think more and more and this was something he didn’t want.

Is there always someone for everyone to take care of their faults? Does everybody need this?

Maybe his preoccupation with this matter proved how many things were wrong with him. It was like Rick borrowed him his anxiety, for those moments.

Awful.

Since Cliff was good in caring for Rick, he came to conclusion that not everyone need someone to take care of their wrongness.

Rick needed care like he needed oxygen: being on his own suffocated him.

But Cliff was also smart enough to realize this so he didn’t mind. That realization was something that still made him smarter that a fuck ton of those pompous scholars and philosophers.

But now, in ambulance, when the door closed and Rick’s half relieved, half guilty face disappeared, he did want for someone to follow him. For Rick to insist to go with him. He was so used to the same façade, it came to him easier than the truth. It was this best kind of façade- that one that is half-truth, half- false.

It was childish anyway.

‘It’s pain’, he thought. ‘It’s always pain that makes the worst come out of you.’

Now, when effects of adrenaline and drugs wore off, he could feel the pain with the whole new level of clarity he didn’t like at all. At ALL.

It hurt like a bitch.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck’ he started to chant. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’

He wanted to curl up or at least to move to some more comfortable position but pain paralysed him. Every little move could cause new wave of pain.

One of the medics, blonde girl in glasses leaned down, frowning. He smiled to her, weakly.

‘Did you two dickheads gave him morphine?’ she turned to her colleagues. He couldn’t hear them properly. ‘You DIDN’T give him morphine? He seemed fine? Those fuckers STABBED him!’

His vision turned blurry when he the needle pierced his skin.

* * *

He wasn’t quite awake yet- dreams still under his eyelids, he couldn’t open his eyes properly, light always a little bit too bright. He tried to sit up on a bed but his movements were clumsy and he only made some kind of frantic movement.

It was- it was bad. The air was stuffy, breathing was hard.

Cliff felt a hand on his head, gently brushing hair off his forehead. He tried to catch it but he only managed to brush it with tips of his fingers. It came back, squeezing his.

‘Cliff. Cliff’ he could hear Rick’s voice, not very well but still. He suddenly felt tears pooling in his eyes, without any explanation or reason. One slipped off his cheek. Goddamn drugs. ‘It’s all right, everything is all right, Cliff.’

He squirmed, failing to sit up again; his hands slipping on sheets.

‘Excuse me, excuse me!’ It was Rick's nervous voice again. ‘What is happening? Is he in pain?’

‘Morphine is still working but it looks like the light woke him. You should come back in few hours again.’ Female voice, polite but bored.

‘Of course.’ Cliff could swear that he heard Rick stutter but everything started to drift away again.

* * *

_He stood in his superior’s office, feeling boredom wash over him. That man obviously kept him here out of sheer malice; he didn’t need him for organising his paperwork. He followed man’s gloved fingers with his eyes, old black leather seemed to have grown together with man’s skin._

_Man caught his gaze and raised his eyebrows at him but stayed silent. He was one of those men whose hair is always perfect and on their faces is always a barely visible grimace and all of that makes them look a bit like vampire. He actually didn’t look a bit like a vampire but, for Cliff, was a perfect picture of a vampire with his black hair, long face and dark, hungry eyes._

_‘Excuse me, sir, can I be dismissed? Is my presence necessary to those papers?’ Cliff broke silence, risking slight irony._

_‘Booth, right?’ Man leaned back in his chair. ‘How old are you?’_

_‘Twenty, sir.’_

_‘Is there anything you could want, Booth?’_

_Cliff felt like laughing in that moment; is there anything any soldier could want? He was so hungry he could kill for something to eat._

_‘I guess I want what any soldier would want. A proper meal.’_

_‘Any soldier... Do you know what I could want?’ He looked like he hesitated for a moment but Cliff wasn’t sure what that expression actually meant._

_‘No, sir.’_

_‘I think could use some relaxation. Catch a break.’ He smiled lazily and suddenly, Cliff didn’t like where that conversation was going. ‘Would you like to buy a meal?’_

_‘I don’t think I could afford anything decent at the moment, sir’ Cliff’s instinct was telling him to play dumb._

_‘Oh, I am sure such a pretty boy like you knew I wasn’t talking about paying with money.’_

_Well, being honest Cliff never were a prideful man. Everybody knew that empty stomach always won._

_Always._

* * *

_They were on the boat that day and it was, well bad- as it always were. Cliff never thought it was possible to hate someone so much. And it wasn’t passion as it always was described, no. It was that he hated every little thing, every little thing about her. How her voice turned into shriek when she was angry. How it took her so much time to do her hair in the morning. How her cooking smelt. How she never waited for him._

_It was never a great love story anyway. Was it even a love story? Oh, maybe; ‘How Two Assholes Met And Married; A Tragedy’._

_They were both tired of loneliness, he thought. He remembered that when he met her, he liked how she used to take his head in her hands and kiss his forehead after sex. She never did it anymore- and he wasn’t surprised._

_It wasn’t like he was a perfect husband anyway. Frankly speaking, he was a bad husband._

_So when she fell into the water- it was an accident but when he didn’t really help her up, when his hand slipped- it maybe wasn’t an accident. He jumped into the water a little bit too late- he couldn’t catch her._

_He couldn’t and for sure didn’t want to._

_Is not wanting a crime? He didn’t know but he felt emptiness inside when he sailed back to the shore. Emptiness and relief, not guilt. He wasn’t scared._

_He wasn’t guilty._

_She didn’t know how to swim but she went with him and got on the boat._

_( Thinking he would catch her if she fell into the water- that his head_ _couldn't let to be a fully formed thought)_

_He wasn’t guilty._

* * *

With waking up this time came awful clarity that made bright light so much worse. It was noon. For a hospital, it was surprisingly quiet there. Did they take him to one of those fancy ones? If they did- well, he wasn't paying for this.

Cliff saw Rick’s face this time too. He sat there, next to his bed with such worried expression, looking lost.

And honestly- he also did look hangover- with crumpled shirt and hair that were just a little bit greasy. 

He probably looked much worse. 

‘Hi’ Cliff gave him a weak smile.

Rick was visibly relieved.

‘I have bagels for you’ he showed him surprisingly neat looking box. ‘Do you- do you feel better?’

‘I don’t feel much to be honest’ Cliff smiled again, this time managing to make his big, charming smile. ‘Dumbasses in the ambulance were kind of late with giving me morphine and I think later they overdid it.’

He took bagels from Rick- suddenly he felt awful hunger. Rick also took one- how long did he waited for Cliff to wake up? They ate in silence.

‘I went to Polanski’s house yesterday’ Rick suddenly broke it. ‘Sharon invited me to the next party.’

He looked guilty somehow.

‘Isn’t that a good thing?’ Cliff already sensed what was this all about.

‘It’s just… I… You basically saved us from those goddamn psychos and then when they took you to hospital I went to party with Sharon and her friends. A little fucked up, isn’t it?’ Rick scratched back of his head, awkwardly.

‘And?’ Cliff knew him well and there was certainly some 'and' here.

‘And when I got here, doctors told me that you probably wouldn’t be able to still work as a stuntman’ Rick’s head dropped lower, he couldn’t look Cliff right in the eyes. ‘I am sorry, Cliff, I…’

‘Rick, I knew. I knew from the moment they took me to ambulance.’ Cliff squeezed Rick’s arm. ‘Everything has its end, doesn’t it?’

And he smiled- like he always did.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed it, please, leave comment or kudos, I would be thrilled to have some feedback.  
> Thank you!


End file.
